


Atlas

by polaroid15



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Broken Bones, Family Feels, Fear, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Kidnapped Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Recovery, Tony Stark is a Good Dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:09:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27922039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polaroid15/pseuds/polaroid15
Summary: Peter and Tony are kidnapped by a psychopath with a particular interest in Greek mythology. Good thing Peter is used to holding up the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 53
Kudos: 289





	Atlas

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! I'm so excited to be posting! I took the month of November off for nanowrimo and completed my lifelong dream of writing a book :) Now, back to irondad! Thanks for all the support of my previous fics and I hope you like this one too :)

Despite being a fairly optimistic person, Peter has definitely admitted to having his share of bad days. 

Generally they didn’t involve psychopaths with an infatuation with Greek Mythology.

Today is different. 

Lucky him. 

He wakes up slowly to unfamiliar surroundings. It’s concerning how little it scares him, how accustomed to the endangerment of his own life he’s become. If anything, it’s morphed into nothing more than a sick inconvenience. He has a dozen physics questions due tomorrow and double that in chemistry. Not to mention how worried May will be when he doesn’t show up for dinner. 

He hates it when he worries her.

No matter how many times he endures it, however, never seems to lessen the killer headache that accompanies his struggled assent back to consciousness. He feels it behind his eyes before he even gets a chance to open them, wanting nothing more than to drift back down to wherever he had come. 

Today, he doesn’t get the chance.

“Pete?” 

Feeling his awareness sharpen, Peter tries to blink open his eyes. They’re heavy, impossibly slow, and for a moment he thinks he’s blind. 

“Kiddo? You awake?” 

_Tony_. 

Peter lets out a low groan. He feels it vibrate through his chest. Tony responds with a victorious sounding noise and Peter fights harder against his eyelids. 

This time, he’s successful. 

The dark walls surrounding them stretch up from where he’s laying on his back like tall trees. The ceiling looks oddly shaped, though he doesn’t focus on it long enough to discover why. Eyes still adjusting, he notices Tony pressed against his side, looking worried but relieved. The man’s hands are firm against Peter’s body, one on his chest and one on his arm. He can feel Tony’s calluses on his skin. 

“Hey there,” Tony smiles. There’s blood on his teeth and in his hair. “You finally with me?” 

Nodding ever so slightly, Peter shifts his weight to his elbows in an effort to pull himself up. Tony pins him down, smile being replaced by a crease of concern between his eyebrows. “Easy, kiddo. You took in enough drugs to knock down an elephant. Take your time.” 

An unwelcome feeling of dread pools at the pit of his stomach like ice. They know he’s Spider-Man, then. Peter tries futilely to swat away Tony’s hands and debates trying to use his voice. His throat is dry and sore like he hasn’t used it in days. “Wh- where?” 

Getting the basic idea of his question, Tony shrugs. “Dunno.” 

“Who?” 

“No idea.” 

“Great.” 

Peter sighs. He can feel his limbs slowly regaining their strength like sand falling through an hourglass, grain by grain. When he tries to move again he recognizes the feeling of a thick metal cuff clasped tightly around his ankle and shifts his head to see Tony in the same predicament. The links connecting the cuffs to the ground are short. In their state they’d be lucky to be able to move a couple steps in any direction, let alone leave. 

“ _Crap_ ,” Peter concludes. 

“Language.” 

“Are you kidding me?” 

They both smile. 

“Okay, help me up. I’m ready now.” 

Listening, Tony grabs Peter’s arm gently and pulls him into a sitting position. Blinking away stars, Peter hangs on to Tony’s support until his vision rights itself. 

“Ready my ass.” 

“Language,” Peter retaliates weakly. 

Tony lets him go. His fingers twitch nervously at his side as he looks around the room. It’s relatively small. Near the ceiling, Peter notices a wide stretch of one way glass. 

“You think someone’s watching us?” He asks timidly. 

“Probably.” 

“What happened?” 

Tony makes a face of disappointment, though years of knowing the man tells Peter it’s actually fear. “You don’t remember?” 

“Elephant drugs. I’m a little foggy.” 

“Told you drugs are bad.” 

“Tony!” 

The older man sighs, shifting to a more comfortable position. The metal on his leg clunks loudly through the room and sends an involuntary shiver down Peter’s spine. “Not a lot to tell, really. We were leaving the restaurant and got nabbed. I didn’t see the guy’s face, but he was definitely alone.” 

Peter considers this for a moment. “Well that doesn’t exactly do wonders for my pride.”

“I’m with you there, kiddo.” 

They fall into a short, uneasy silence. This is the worst part, Peter decides. The waiting. The anticipation of an upcoming threat and not quite knowing how to prepare for it. 

“Are you okay?” Peter asks, feeling stupid for not asking sooner. 

“Course I am.” 

“Good.” 

“Are you?” 

“Just peachy.” 

Tony huffs out a laugh. “Tell ya what. We’re getting ice cream after this. I’ll even let you get a waffle cone.” 

Peter allows himself to smile. A small buzz itches at the edge of his mind and it fills him with dread. Almost as quickly as it had come, his smile is gone. “They’re coming,” he says. 

Tony braces himself, head whipping towards the door. He shifts to sit in front of Peter, a protective stance that Peter guesses Tony doesn’t even realize he’s doing. He lets it happen, selfishly grateful that for once he’s not alone. 

The door opens and a tall, broad man walks in wearing an old brown suit that reminds Peter of a handful of his teachers at school. His thin brown hair is balding, but neat, and his glasses are so thick that Peter can’t really decipher the colour of his eyes. 

He hears Tony huff incredulously, clearly unimpressed with their captor. “ _Seriously?_ ” 

“Why hello,” the man says, smiling widely. “So glad to finally become acquainted.” 

Peter opens his mouth but closes it as Tony elbows him in the ribs in an unspoken warning. Pouting slightly, he looks back to the man. Their mutual silence invites him to continue. 

“I must say I am quite the fan of you both. Marvelous things you’ve done for this city. Truly _heroic!_ ” He pauses, drinking in their looks of confusion.

“Who are you?” Peter asks at the same time Tony hisses out a “what the hell do you want?” 

The man’s been smiling since he’s entered the room. It’s unnerving. Now, if possible, it widens. “I am Professor Eden. I promise you both that this encounter holds nothing personal. It’s an experiment I desire, one that requires one of your particular expertise.” 

Tony’s patience is thinning. Peter can tell by the way his fingers whiten against the ground and the steadily increasing tightness in his shoulders. “Alright Professor Jackass. I’ll bite. What’s the experiment?” 

“Are you a fan of Greek mythology, Mr. Stark?” 

“ _No_.” 

“Pity,” Professor Eden says. “I find it quite fascinating. In fact, I’ve spent my entire life studying it. One story in particular. I’d like to share it with you today.”

“Pass,” Tony says. 

“I’m afraid your agency is quite limited-”

“Get on with it then!” 

Looking slightly off put but not unencouraged, Professor Eden straightens his freaking _bow tie_ and clears his throat in preparation. Peter expects a long speech to monologue from the man, deciding he looks the type, but instead only says a single word. “Atlas!” 

“Atlas?” Tony repeats blankly. 

“He was forced to hold up the sky,” Peter says before he can stop himself. A seed of worry has planted itself in his stomach. He’s reminded of the awkward design of the ceiling in his first moment of consciousness, though he doesn’t dare look up to confirm his suspicions now. 

“Very good Peter,” the man says. Tony makes a strained sound at the use of Peter’s name, but doesn’t say anything further. “Exactly right. You see, Atlas sided with the Titans in the great battle of Olympus. Once defeated, Zeus condemned many of those who opposed him to Tatarus, a form of prison, if you will. Atlas, however, was given a different punishment as you have so brilliantly alluded Mr. Parker. He was tasked with holding up the very heavens on his shoulders.” 

“Cut the crap and get to the point.” 

Narrowing his eyes in the slightest, Professor Eden shifts his gaze to Peter. “Remarkable strength you have, my boy.” 

“Don’t talk to him!” 

“You can catch a bus with your bare hands. In fact, I’ve seen you do it.” 

Peter stays silent. His heart is beating fiercely against his ribs. He can feel his pulse in his throat. 

“It was a couple weeks ago. I was walking home to see my family after work. You saved my life.” 

Neither Tony or Peter find the words to respond. 

“You reminded me so much of Atlas. I haven’t been able to shake it! Ever since that day of your heroics I couldn’t help but hypothesize the extent of your strength, especially when properly _motivated_ ,” he says, cutting his eyes back to Tony. 

“What are you saying?” 

“In this moment, Peter ceases to be himself,” Profesor Eden elaborates vaguely. “Now, he is Atlas. We are going to test not only his strength, but his endurance, for holding up the weight of the heavens is no ordinary task. Especially not for mortals.” 

“You’re insane!” Tony is livid. Peter can see his hands shaking. Even though his own hands match the nervous tick, he rests one on Tony’s in an attempt to stop the tremor. They breathe. The contact helps. Their hands go still. 

Professor Eden’s expression is cold enough to cut ice. He gestures up above them in a dramatic, sweeping motion. Peter doesn’t follow it, stomach sinking all the way to his toes. He is staring at the Professor, heart thundering against his ribs until it hurts. 

Tony looks and gasps. 

“I won’t do it,” Peter says evenly. He stands and pulls on his chain, but it doesn’t give. “Your experiment didn’t ask for volunteers.” 

Professor Eden regards him with a soft look similar to pity. He taps his fingers against his folded arms, tilting his head to the side, studying them. “Of course you will participate, Atlas! For it is your sole responsibility. _Especially_ if you don’t want our dear friend Mr. Stark to be crushed by the weight of your failure.” 

“ _No.”_ Peter hears Tony cursing behind him but it sounds like static in his ears. He looks slowly down to the chains holding them, regretfully understanding their greater purpose. Then, with a morbid slowness, he lifts his chin to look at the ceiling.

The air in his chest solidifies as his suspicions are confirmed. Attached to the ceiling above them is a giant slab of concrete held in place by multiple chain and pulley systems. It looms over them like a threat, thriving in the sheer anticipation of crushing them. His mind’s eye brings him back to the warehouse at homecoming, how the structure had pinned him to the ground and made it impossible to breathe. 

Peter shrinks underneath its shadow. He feels Tony’s warm hand on his wrist. 

He tries to be brave. His voice doesn’t shake. “Let Tony go.” 

“Pete-”

Eden shakes his head. “Sorry, Atlas. I imagine the results will be much more impressive if we play this my way.” He pulls a small remote out of his tweed pocket and runs his thumb gently over a black button on the end. Tony is screaming and Peter feels too numb to tell him to stop. 

“Good luck.” 

He presses the button and leaves. 

Both Tony and Peter cry out as an unseen machine whirls to life. The slab of concrete begins to lower slowly towards them and Peter falls to his knees in the panic of it all. He feels Tony’s hands on either side of his face, forcing his head up to look at him. 

“Breathe, Petey. I know this is scary. I _know_. You can do it though. I know you can.” 

“To-Tony.” 

The slab draws closer and Tony helps Peter stand. It’s a foot above his head now, so close that Peter could reach up and touch it with his fingertips. 

He looks at Tony and the world blurs on its edges. For a moment, it brings him peace. As convoluted as the Professor is, he’s right. 

Because no matter what, Peter won’t let Tony get hurt. 

“I won’t drop it,” Peter gasps. He feels the concrete brush his hair and his mouth stings with acid. He fights to control his breathing and focuses on the life in Tony’s eyes. “I _p-promise_. I won’t let it hurt you.” 

“Peter-” 

“Work on the chains.” 

Before either of them can pull in another breath the concrete falls on Peter’s shoulders with sudden finality. Tony has to crouch, the space too small for his current height. Wincing, Peter supports it. The Professor must see his effort through the one way glass because as soon as it’s on him, the pulleys slacken. 

It doesn’t drop further. 

It’s entire weight becomes his burden. 

Peter screams. He can’t help it. It’s by far the heaviest weight he’s ever had to carry. Sweat and heat rush to his face in an instant, his knees wavering dangerously beneath him as his muscles strain to hold up its opponent. Tony swears again and springs back up, bracing his own hands against the concrete in a vain hope to alleviate Peter’s pain, eyes bright with panic.

“St-stop,” Peter chokes out. The initial surprise wears off and he readjusts his grip, biting at his lip when the sharp rock bites into his shoulders. He tastes copper. “I got it. The chains-” 

“Right,” Tony agrees and drops to the floor. Peter can’t see what he’s doing but hears the metal of their bindings scrape and clatter. The concrete shifts and he moans, the feeling of it slick against the sweat on his palms. 

Tony works and Peter fights to stand, trembling and coughing out air. 

“How long do I have to do this?” He grinds out through barred teeth. 

“He didn’t say kiddo,” Tony says frantically. He hears another clang of metal and registers a soft tug against his ankle. “Hang in there.” 

“ _I’m trying!_ ” 

“I know Petey, I know.” 

Peter gasps. The sweat from his forehead runs down into his eyes and it makes them sting. He’s not sure how long he stands there, entire body shaking in exertion as Tony works beneath him. Eventually, Tony speaks again, voice higher than usual. “It’s not working Pete they’re not budging.” 

Peter feels it as Tony crawls closer to the window, as far as the chain will allow him. “Professor asshole! Stop this _now_! You’re going to kill him!” 

There’s an ugly silence, filled only by Peter’s grunts. Then, the Professor’s voice echoes through the room around them over an intercom. It makes Peter nauseous. 

“Atlas is doing remarkably well, wouldn’t you say Mr. Stark? Already twenty minutes in and barely even a flinch! Very impressive considering he is holding up fifteen tons.” 

As if hearing the words themselves Peter’s muscles jerk and spasm in an unhappy rejection to the number. He feels the concrete bare down on him harder, but he doesn’t relent, trying to swallow his mounting panic. 

“Lift it back up!” Tony screams. Peter hears him banging on the floor. “I swear to God I’ll kill you if you don’t!” 

“Patience,” the Professor drawls happily. “Watch as mythology unfolds before your eyes.” 

The intercom goes quiet. Tony yells and screams and curses but Eden’s voice does not return. He gives up and crawls back to Peter. When he speaks, his words are pinched. “How’re we doin’ buddy?” 

He’s not sure he has the energy to respond. He shakes his head ever so slightly. 

“Jesus. Oh man. Okay.” Tony comes back up beside him and lifts his arms to hold the immense weight once more by his side. Peter doesn’t feel the slightest difference in the pressure trying to force him into the ground but the gesture gives him strength all the same. “You can do this Pete. Just a little longer.” 

“How-how do you know?” 

“I know. Trust me.” 

“Oka- okay.” 

“You’re doing great buddy.” 

Minutes must pass, but they feel like centuries. Peter pants heavily for air, his vision beginning to blur. Surely his bones will grind into dust inside his body. 

“Peter? Talk to me?” 

“Dizzy,” Peter murmurs. “Don’ feel good.” 

He doesn’t hear Tony’s response though he’s sure he sees Tony open his mouth. A wave of vertigo crashes over him and one of his knees goes completely numb. He’s not aware that he’s stumbled until he’s trapped on one knee, Tony forced to sit beside him, hands on Peter’s face. 

“-id? Peter?” 

“What?” Peter peels his sticky eyelids open, the room continuing to spin. The pain in his knee is intense, worse than any break he remembers and for a moment it's enough to ground him. The concrete is still on his shoulders and every muscle in his body burns like fire. They're a lot closer to the ground. “I- I fell.” 

“Yeah,” Tony says shakily. He looks up at the cement, then to Peter, eyes kind. “It’s okay though.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You didn’t mean to. Just stay where you’re at.” 

“Hurts,” Peter whines. He wants more than anything to give up. Surely his body couldn’t take it much longer. 

But miraculously, it does. Professor Eden’s voice reenters the room later, congratulating them for reaching the one hour mark. Tony screams at the man again for mercy, but again the room is thick with silence. 

Peter is too tired to cry anymore. 

“Peter,” Tony’s hands are on his face again. Their cold, or maybe he’s just burning. His thumbs wipe away the remnants of his fear. “Peter stay awake.” 

What a strange thing to say, Peter thinks distantly. 

“Peter?” 

The weight becomes a part of him. If he lets go, it will be okay. 

“ _Peter!_ ” Through the numbness, Peter feels something sharp against his cheek. The blurry image of Tony swims in front of him like a distant mirage. _He had hit him_. 

“It worked,” Tony breathes. Peter watches as he sits back on his heels. “Thank God. You weren’t responding to me.” 

“S’ry.” 

“No, don’t-” Tony breaks off. “You’re doing so well, Petey. Just a little longer.”

“M’k.” Peter shudders. A rush of nausea runs through him so viciously it whites out his vision. Before he knows it his other knee has fallen, the cement falling closer only by inches. He feels the acidic sting of acid rising up his throat and Tony shuffles out of the way when it spills out of his mouth. He feels his mentor’s hand on his back, rubbing it soothingly. 

“Christ.” 

Peter finishes, feeling weaker than he ever has in his life while simultaneously being the strongest he’s ever had to. 

He can’t help it. 

He _sobs_. 

“I- I can’t do it much longer,” Peter cries. “It’s t-too much Tony!” 

“You can,” Tony urges with great force. “I know you can.”

Peter doesn’t feel the pain at the two hour mark, veering on total oblivion. Tony has to hit him in the face every couple minutes to keep his eyes open. The weight gets heavier and heavier.

Or maybe he’s just getting weaker. 

At the three hour mark Peter is on his hands and knees and supporting the weight on his back. Tony is crouched in front of him, body contorted to accommodate the small space. He opens his eyes whenever he feels Tony slap at him. He knows it’s important, but it’s getting harder and harder to listen to the stimulus.

His body is shutting down. They both know it. 

There’s an unseen countdown, accelerated with every moan and violent shake in his arms. The ground is so close now, enticing Peter to lay his body against it, to feel relief despite the consequences. 

It must scare Tony because the next time Peter forces up his heavy eyelids Tony is crying. Peter wants to reach out and wipe them away like Tony has always done for him, but his arms are crushed against the unbearable weight. Another wave of dizziness overtakes him once more and he presses his forehead into the ground below until he’s sure it bleeds, fighting to stay conscious. He tries to scream out the agony in his chest but it only leaves as a whisper. 

Tony’s voice is constant now, a low murmur in the back of his mind. Peter wishes desperately he could understand the words. 

But he can’t. 

He thinks he feels Tony’s fingers in his hair, but he can’t be sure. 

He thinks he hears Tony calling his name. He can’t be sure of that, either. 

His vision is white on the edges. A thick ringing has started in his ears, buried somewhere in the cotton in his head. He forces himself to look up, to look at the man he’s seen as his father for years. Tony’s lips are moving. His face is wet and streaked with dust. He’s looking at Peter like Peter has always wanted to be seen. 

Like family. 

“T-” 

He can’t hear the man’s response, but sees Tony’s hands close around his own. He doesn’t feel the contact, either. He’s dust. Just like on Titan. Always dust. 

“T-Tony. Sr’y. L-love you.” 

He doesn’t want to die and fears Tony’s death far above his own, but that fear is swallowed in the great numbness in his body. It lulls him into a quiet assurance, a promise of quick release. It could all be over soon. 

He thinks of May. God, how he’ll miss her. She deserved better than what he’s given her and the guilt of it all nearly sends him to the earth. 

Professor Eden was wrong. 

He was no Atlas. The weight of the world was too much for him to carry on his own. 

But of course he’s known it all along. 

The sharp whiteness spreads across his vision until it’s all he can see, like some sort of heaven. He’s not sure he’s breathing anymore and doesn’t dwell on the consequences if he isn’t. 

Something shifts. He’s not sure if it’s in him or around him. He falls. He drifts. He dreams. 

He feels warm hands on his face. 

“ _Peter?_ ” 

The voice comes from somewhere underwater. It spikes a vicious pain in his head. “Peter wake up! Please, oh God. Please wake up.” 

The voice is familiar. It reels him somewhere he doesn’t want to go like a fish ensnared on a hook. His eyes open slowly, slits against his environment. 

Tony’s head is above him. Something wet hits his neck and Peter wonders distantly if Tony is crying. His own head is cushioned on something soft, his lax hand held in Tony’s own. They still shake. Peter wants to squeeze it in comfort as Tony has always done for him. He even tries, but his body refuses to cooperate with his brain. His insides have turned into a vast nothingness. 

Something seems out of place. 

“Tony?” 

“ _Yes,_ ” he gasps. “You beautiful, beautiful boy. Everything’s okay. Pepper found us. The concrete is gone. She lifted it back up. You don’t have to carry it anymore.” 

The whole universe, Peter thinks blankly as he moves his vision up to the ceiling. The concrete sways above them like some great shadow, deceptive in its nature. He had held up the whole universe for Tony and miraculously, he was okay. 

Peter though? Surely he was dead. 

“Atlas,” Peter murmurs. His tongue sits heavy in his mouth. He’s blind again, but Tony’s hold on him makes him feel safe.

“Yeah, kiddo,” Tony says. “You can sleep. I’ll hold you now. I’ll take us home.” 

Peter doesn’t need any more of an invitation. He slips and falls, but this time, the descent is warm and familiar. 

He had held up the world and survived. 

Tony was safe. 

Everything was going to be okay.

\---

Everything was going to be okay. 

Tony is hyperventilating. He’s not sure if it’s the relief or the stress or the assurance he had in his heart only moments before that Peter was gone. He brushes the sweaty curls away from Peter’s forehead and holds him tight against his chest. Through the material of their shirts he can feel the thready thrum of Peter’s heartbeat, pounding even in his unconsciousness. _Alive. Safe._

Pepper lands beside him like the goddess she is and Tony falls into her side, Peter still tucked into him, and _sobs._

She whispers in his ear and runs her hands through his hair. When he’s ready she helps him stand and together they bring Peter’s limp form to a waiting car. Tony and Peter take up the backseat, Peter’s head resting in Tony’s lap and his arm hanging off the edge of the seat. His head lolls against the movement of the car.

It doesn’t take them long to get back to the tower. Even as they park Tony tightens his hold on the child in his arms, knowing that as soon as Dr. Cho sees him, the boy would be taken away. 

Peter had held up the sky for him. Now it was his turn to return the favour. 

Ever since Peter had collapsed his body had been shaking like an aftershock. It makes Tony’s eyes sting and his throat tight. Nothing he does helps take the pain away or the tremors stop.

His beautiful, brave, _goddamn stupid_ kid. 

He focuses on breathing as Pepper gets out of the car and circles around to help them out. She’s urgency and safety and warmth. 

In. Hold. Out. Hold. 

Every heartbeat felt like a miracle. 

“You’re going to be okay Peter,” he reassures the ears that can’t hear him. He rubs circles in Peter’s hand and frowns at how pale the boy has become, like his very skin is forever ingrained with concrete dust. 

Peter doesn’t twitch. He barely breathes. 

Tony holds on tighter. 

\---

As soon as Tony and Pepper stumble into the Tower, Peter limp in Tony’s tight hold, Cho walks to them purposefully with a gurney. In less than ten seconds Peter is lifted out of Tony’s arms, hooked to oxygen, and wheeled away. 

His hands feel empty and cold. 

Pepper hugs him close and he lets her. She guides him to the shower and rebuttals his weak protests. She turns on the water for him and helps him pull off his shirt and unlaces his shoes. 

He tries to unclip his belt. 

His hands are so weak. 

He finds himself under a stream of hot water. It burns the dust, sweat, and salt off his skin. It swirls down the drain as a memory. 

He stands there for a long time. An hour, maybe more. 

Eventually, his knees grow weak. 

He thinks of Atlas and throws up, feeling dizzy and helpless and sad. 

Pepper turns off the water and helps him get dressed. He would feel silly for it later, but for now he’s just grateful. They walk hand in hand to medical and Tony pretends that he can’t feel the walls closing in around him, threatening collapse. 

Cho is already waiting for them. She looks grim, but not sad. Tired, but not defeated. 

“Tony, Pepper.” 

Tony’s throat is numb. “Peter?” 

Cho straightens her shoulders. “He’ll be fine. He sustained multiple fractures in his arms and legs, most likely from the stress of the weight. Plus he’s exhausted. His body almost shut down trying to keep that concrete up. Any later and you both would’ve died, no doubt about it.”

Tony feels his heart stutter. He thinks of Peter moments before Pepper’s rescue, eyes rolling in his head and sinking farther to the concrete, mumbling goodbyes that Tony wasn’t ready to hear.

He squeezes Pepper’s hand and she returns the gesture kindly. 

“We have him settled in the usual room. He’s on oxygen and an IV with a mild sedative. He shouldn’t wake up until later tonight. You can go see him.” 

The relief is blinding. Unable to speak, Pepper thanks Cho and Tony nods in his agreement. He feels her watch them as they walk through the hall towards Peter’s room. 

It feels like he’s walking on water.

They stop outside the door. Tony can see Peter’s still form in a cutout of light from the hallway and freezes. He wants to open the door but fears he’ll be too weak. 

Pepper does it for him.

“He’s okay,” she assures him, reading his mind. She brushes her hand against his cheek and he savours in its warmth. It stays with him as he walks into the room alone. There’s a nice chair by Peter’s bedside that he settles in, almost in ritual. 

Soft beeps and the whir of oxygen brings some peace to the chaos in Tony’s mind, but only slightly. Peter looks incredibly small in the bed, more so than usual. His hair is limp, dark eyelashes standing vividly against the pale bruises of his cheeks; cheeks without the flush of life. There’s a cast on both his legs and his left arm, each one a different colour. 

Tony sits back, afraid to touch him in case the boy might shatter. As tears well in his eyes he rubs at his face, wondering how in hell someone so small could be so strong. It wasn’t fair, this burden Peter had to carry. 

It was his Tony’s job to keep him safe and he had failed. 

Peter had held up the world for him today and Tony knows he would do it again in a heartbeat. 

The thought brings salt to his eyes. He cries silently and Peter blurs in front of him. Maybe it’s shock or relief or guilt. 

Hell, maybe it’s gratitude. 

Almost of its own accord Tony’s hand finds the soft bedsheets by Peter’s lax arm. His fingers twitch and strain, then finally, find skin. 

He releases a short breath. Because Peter isn’t cold but is warm and alive and breathing. The clip on Peter’s finger makes the hold on his hand awkward, but it’s enough. 

He stares at the kid through half mast eyes until he falls asleep. 

\---

“Tony.” 

“T-tony.” 

“ _Tony!_ ” 

He jerks up, his neck aching and sore. He looks deliriously around the dark room, eyes settling on the blurry form of Peter Parker looking amusedly at him from his cocoon of blankets. He looks half-dead, pale and bruised and lacking a certain spark to his eyes. 

“Kiddo!” Tony blinks rapidly to clear his vision. “Oh my god Pete-” 

“May?” 

“Pep called her. She’s on her way Pete but-”

“I’m okay.” Peter’s voice is small, but strong. He clears his throat and smiles unconvincingly. “Sorry you had to carry me out of there.” 

Tony’s brain short circuits. “What?”

“I said I’m sorry-”

“Shut up! Are you kidding me? You held up _fifteen goddamn tons for three hours_ and you’re apologizing that I had to haul your skinny ass to the car?” 

Peter blinks slowly, the eyes behind large and glassy. “Uh. Yes?” 

Tony collapses, head in his hands. “Oh Jesus.” 

They sit in silence. It’s obvious Peter is trying to work around the drugs clouding his system. Every word is slow and deliberate, like he’s trying to solve some great mystery.

“What happened?” 

“Pepper saved the day.” 

“Mmm. Naturally.” 

“You said it.” 

Peter takes a shaky breath. He looks down at his broken body with a mild half interest, perhaps too drugged to really account for the extent of the damage. “You can go to your own bed if you want. I know sleeping in chairs makes your back hurt.” 

“No,” Tony says immediately, heart clenching. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again. In fact, your butt is staying in this bed forever.” 

Laughing weakly, Peter raises his eyebrows. “Forever?” 

“Yes. Forever.” 

Peter continues to laugh. It tapers off when it makes it hard to breathe and Tony watches with anxiety as he fights to catch air. When the fit passes he relaxes back into his pillow, looking dazed and exhausted. 

“Sorry,” he wheezes. “That whole thing sucked so bad. My body feels like jello.” 

“That’s just the drugs.” 

“And the fifteen tons I had to hold.” 

“Yeah, that too.” 

“I hate jello.” 

It’s Tony’s turn to chuckle. He sobers fast. He places his hand on Peter’s arm, who looks at it intensely before raising his stare to meet Tony’s. 

“Thanks, kid.” 

“For what?”

“Saving my life. Again.” 

“We’re almost even.” 

Tony smiles. It blossoms a pain in his chest. “Are you keeping tally or something?” 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

A soft silence drifts between them. Peter shifts in the bed and winces, looking up at the ceiling with an expression Tony knows all too well. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

Peter’s voice is tight. “Not really.” 

“You were so brave today.” 

“No. I was terrified.” 

“It’s okay to be both.” 

Peter squeezes his eyes shut. His hands are shaking. When he comes back to himself Tony’s throat is tight with emotion. “It wasn’t fair. What that man made you do.” 

“But I did it,” Peter says. His words are empty. “Even when I thought I couldn’t. But not for him. Not even for me.” 

Tony swallows, eyes stinging. 

“I did it for you.” 

Tony falls back, feeling as if the world were suddenly upon his own shoulders. Peter is looking at him with the same expression he had before the concrete had dropped on them, full of honesty and determination. 

“Kid-” 

Peter flusters. “Nevermind. The important thing is that we’re out now.” 

“Peter,” Tony says softly. His hand wraps around Peter’s arm once more and the boy stills like calm water, eyes wide. He thinks of what Peter had meant to be his final words with sharp clarity. “I would’ve done the exact same thing for you. I love you, kiddo.” 

They smile at each other and Tony feels it fill the gaps in his chest. Then, strangely, they laugh. Tony doesn’t know why. It saps away the numbness in his chest and clears the concrete dust from his throat. 

“I mean, you did try,” Peter says in good humour. “You tried helping me lift it, remember?” 

Tony bites back his smile, feigning hurt. “Come on, kid. You know my old man bones aren’t as strong as yours. It was the thought that counted.” 

Peter smiles. It’s genuine and loopy and _alive_. 

“Yeah,” he says. “It was.” 

**Author's Note:**

> There it is! More fics coming soon :) if you made it this far thanks for reading and being an amazing human <3 I hope you're having the best day ever! You can find me on tumblr @polaroid15  
> THANKS FOR EVERYTHING AND REMEMBER YOU ARE GREAT!


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